Page 7 of Blue Embers
It had been a while since a woman looked like more than a warm body to me. She certainly separated herself from the masses. I wasn’t sure if it was her appearance or the way she held herself or the things she said to me, but something about her was quite appealing.
The further I got from my seaside haven, the more I remembered that there were responsibilities to be acted on. I sighed, rolling down my window and propping my elbow up on the door to feel the humid breeze from outside. The air smelled less and less fresh the closer I got to the city again, tainted with the must of too many bodies, car exhaust, and artificial perfumes. My hypersensitive senses definitely didn’t enjoy it all. The overload of synthetic odors often gave me a bit of a headache. Still, the museum exhibit was the first project I’d actually enjoyed in the past year or so and I was happy to finally get it off the ground. Sacrificing a little comfort was a small price.
After picking up the latte I’d promised Persephone, I pulled up to the museum. Parking around the back again, I stepped out of the car and made my way to the loading dock. Walking inside, the silence was soothing in contrast to the traffic noises outside. I held the dagger by my side, strangely nervous to know it would be kept somewhere other than my home, but the exhibit meant the item would be appreciated and learned from.
The museum was quiet that morning, like any museum would be, with a certain, empty echo that made its already immense interior seem endless. It had adopted a new schedule recently, opening later to give workers time to prepare for the grand opening of the new display. It was a good place to be for that reason, especially when I was in need of a little silence and time away from my lab. The soles of my shoes tapping along the floors were the only sounds in the building as I approached the wooden doors leading to the Draak exhibit.
Inside the chamber, I found a few men moving large sculptures around and securing art pieces to the walls. I surpassed them all, walking up to the office. Inside, Benjamin was sitting at his wood desk typing things into an old-fashioned computer. He looked up at me as I entered and quickly stood, straightening the blazer of his dark suit.
“Mr. Valentyne,” he welcomed in the same manner as the previous day. “Twice in one week? What an honor.” His eyes flicked to the wrapped dagger in my hand. “Is that the last piece Ms. Grant told me you had?”
I set the weapon and the coffee on the desk, unwrapping the dagger for Benjamin to see.
“Authentic, Kumirian steel with blue embers embedded in the blade,” I explained. “Forged from my own spark three hundred years ago.”
“Wow,” Benjamin exhaled, a real appreciation in his tone as he reached out and carefully picked up the weapon in his hands. “It’s absolutely stunning. And it was made in blue fire?” he asked. “That’s rare, yes?”
“It is.” I knitted my brows. “Benjamin, when did you get so knowledgeable?”
“Actually, Ms. Grant has been sparking my interest with a lot of the items she’s brought in. I get bored with paperwork, so she talks to me.” He raised the blade to his ear, his face growing more elated by the second. “It’s humming,” he said.
“It’s the kinetic energy,” I explained. “Any weapon made with dragon fire holds it.”
“So it’s alive then?”
I shrugged. “I suppose, in a way.”
“And you’re sure it’s ok to include this in the exhibit?”
“If the only other thing it will be doing is sitting in a display case at my house, then yes. I want people to understand more about our history when they come to the viewing and this is certainly part of it.”
“Wow, Mr. Valentyne. This is just...I’m floored and so honored to have it here.”
He set the dagger down on its silk bed and the two of us walked back out and down toward the ground floor again. I took a gradual scan of the exhibit as we ambled through it, eyeing the different pieces that had been donated or bought over the past year or so from around the world. As we discussed the arrangements for the following week, I couldn’t help reliving some of my past life as I ventured through the artifacts and illustrations.
“So?” Benjamin asked as we reached the other side of the room where numerous new pieces of art were hanging on the walls. “What do you think of it so far? Ms. Grant has really outdone herself with some of these, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s coming along,” I said, glancing at a long piece of hemp with a highly stylized interpretation of a red dragon painted along its length. I reached out to straighten the way it was hanging on the wall and stepped away, nodding with approval.
“I meant to ask,” Benjamin said eagerly. “Since you’re here and if you don’t mind. I greatly enjoy learning.”
“Ask,” I said, resting my hands in my pant pockets.
“This painting here,” he said, pointing to a small parchment sitting behind glass.
It was of a woman with fierce features. She was dressed in red and gold garments. Her muscled silhouette gave her an edge, but it was the blood-red hair and the protruding horns that set her apart from any other piece in the exhibit.
“What are these creatures?” Benjamin asked. “I’ve seen them once or twice while going through donated items. Some of the plaques are still being printed, though, and I didn’t get a chance to ask Ms. Grant about it.”
“A Zephyre,” I said, staring flatly at the painting.
“So it is one of the red ladies you’ve told me about. The witches?”
I nodded. “They’re long gone,” I said, adding, “I hope,” to the end of that phrase under my breath. “They were dangerous and damaging creatures. Had they found this world instead of us, man wouldn’t exist anymore.”
“Have you ever seen one? In person, I mean. Forgive me, it’s just so fascinating. I heard of the destruction on Kumir, where you all came from. I know talking about the red witches might be a bit difficult, so I apologize if it stirs any unwanted emotions.”
“I’ve seen a few,” I answered, my voice growing heavy with memories. “I was younger then. Not the man I am now.” Snapping out of it, I turned back to Benjamin with a polite grin. “But that’s a long story for another time.” Giving the art some thought, I narrowed my eyes at the intricate detail of the woman. “Who donated this piece?” I asked.
